


Last Chance

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Betaed, Dancing, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Hunters & Hunting, Light Angst, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Porn With Plot, Prom, Season/Series 03, Sex in the Impala, Sibling Incest, Undercover, Werewolves, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: During a werewolf case out in Michigan, Sam realizes that he needs to be honest with Dean and finally find out if there's anything between them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the September 2016 edition of the [Wincest Writing Challenge](http://wincestwritingchallenge.tumblr.com/). My prompt was "senior prom" and my partner was [rodiniaorzetalthepenquin](https://rodiniaorzetalthepenquin.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thanks to [Zeryx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx) for being my beta on this.

An incoherent barrage of fast lyrics—twined with an insane level of bass—throbs through the gymnasium decorated like the Monte Carlo casino. Sam has no idea what the music is, but the teenagers are dancing along to it. Having never made it to a senior prom of his own, Sam’s only frames of reference for the social ritual taking place around him are after school specials and the odd movie.

Across the dance floor stands Dean and he looks like he’s pretending to enjoy himself, the music clearly not his thing in the least. But they have a case to work, and Sam wishes they weren’t having to wear their Fed suits to do this, however it would have looked odd for the substitute guidance counsellor and substitute workshop teacher to turn up to watch over senior prom in plaid and jeans.

Despite the music, there’s a smile on Dean’s face and Sam recalls that Dean never made it to a senior prom when he was younger. _Maybe he thinks this is his last chance to experience something like this_ , Sam thinks bitterly, trying not to think about how little time Dean has before his number’s up and the Hellhounds are sent for him. Time is no longer on their side.

Sam tries to focus on the task at hand. In amongst this sea of hormones is a teen wolf who’s been ratcheting up quite the body count on some hiking trails around Adrian, Michigan. So Dean’s helping to serve the punch and it’s got a little extra kick in it today: silver nitrate. Not enough to harm a human, but sufficient to make a werewolf sick enough to walk out the room and possibly die. They’d taken a far more direct route with teen wolf’s maker—silver dagger to the heart in some woods south of the city, body burned and buried.

Their main suspect is Harry Charles, some quarterback who’s destined to be prom King with his girlfriend Cherie Jones his prom Queen. It’s early, the punch is flowing and they’re just waiting for Harry to feel thirsty. Sam’s got his eyes on Harry, but also the rest of the teenagers there. While Sam’s not 100% certain, the evidence points to the quarterback as the most likely suspect. It would have been nice to have dealt with teen wolf away from a crowd, but he’d been impossible to get alone.

Three quarters of an hour in, their supposed teen wolf finally stalks over to the drinks table and asks Dean for two cups of punch. Sam discreetly keeps an eye on Harry and Dean while watching the gym. Everywhere he looks, he has to get over how much money has likely been spent by those in attendance and keep his head in the game.

“It’s a shame about Terrance Clyde,” says a woman at Sam’s elbow. He turns to acknowledge one of the school’s English teachers, a short, lithe woman in her forties. But Sam still keeps an eye on Harry and Dean over the top of her head.

Harry doesn’t look so good.

“Yes, well, hopefully you’ll find a replacement for him soon enough,” Sam replies in as conversational a tone as he can manage. Terrance had been teen wolf’s first victim.

“Shame you’re not applying for the opening,” continues the woman, giving Sam a look that eats him up.

“Sorry, it’s a nice enough school and all, but—”

“But you and Mister Bachman come as a pair and you’ll be going with him, right? Come now, I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other.”

Sam’s not entirely sure how red his face has just gone, but he’s sure someone could fry an egg on him right about now. Yes, they had been staring at each other more than usual and Sam doesn’t have a clue what the hell to do about it. _C’mon, he’s your brother!_ had been an argument that was slowly getting old and quieter every time Sam thought of it. Because he likes the way Dean’s been looking at him. He’s glad fewer random women have been coming back to their motel rooms. He keeps thinking about Dean in ways he shouldn’t and his stomach does happy little flips.

“Pretty much,” Sam confirms and then spots Thomas Perry, the coach who’s been crushing on the woman talking to him right now. “Hey, Tom!” Sam calls to the man, over the throbbing music, waving to him. Coach Perry ambles over in a few strides and starts talking, giving Sam a chance to make a quick exit.

Looking around, Sam sees Dean watching Harry walk out of the gym. Sidling up to Dean, Sam waits for his brother to say something.

“It’s him,” Dean says in a low voice as the music fades out and someone starts tapping a microphone, the thump carrying out over the speakers set up in the space.

“Hello, seniors!” coos out a young woman’s voice.

“We need to dump the rest of the punch,” Sam says lowly.

“Gimme a sec,” Dean mutters. He turns and makes a theatrical show of sniffing the punch and putting a finger in it, miming as if to find that it’s been spiked. Picking up the bowl, Dean leads the way as Sam follows him out of the gym and along a short corridor to a courtyard. Dean dumps the punch in time for them to hear the first scream.

The clamor of shocked voices, shouts and more screams are easy to follow as they dump the punch bowl back in the gymnasium. Making a show of following the other staff members, students and parents to the restrooms, Dean and Sam’s faces are masks as they act surprised and horrified with everyone else. Most of the sadness Sam feels right now is for the families and friendships that have been broken by Harry.

Appearances put in, Dean gently maneuvers the two of them out of the way as paramedics show up. They’re in the Impala, plates changed, jackets off, and gone before the cops show up.

Heading out of Adrian—warm summer night air streaming through open windows and ruffling their hair—Sam keeps looking over at his brother, their snatched glances as of late heavy on his mind.

Surprisingly, Dean hasn’t put any music on and their journey remains silent until fifty miles out of Adrian and Sam finally says, “Dean, pull over.”

“Sam, what’s—”

“Just, pull over would you?”

Dean frowns, but does as he’s told, pulling the car off the highway into an empty picnic area as soon as he can. Under the light of the interior dash,without explanation, Sam hauls out Dean’s tapes and searches for one that won’t completely suck. He’s got an idea, but he needs the right music.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“Just… Where is your decent music?”

The box of cassette tapes is ripped out of Sam’s hands and Dean pouts as he starts thumbing through the box. “It’s all good,” Dean grunts and Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and the tapes.

Is it fate that the tape Dean finally picks is a copy of Bob Seger’s Night Moves album already played part way through? Sam doesn’t care as he snatches the tape out of Dean’s hand, ejects Metallica and slips the cassette into the car stereo and presses play, cranking the volume up.

Clambering out of the car as the folksy guitar starts to kick in, “Night Moves” starting to play, Sam jogs round to Dean’s side, opens his door and holds out a hand as the music plays.

“Dean… wanna… dance?” Sam says, using every ounce of nerve to stay there, hand held up. Every fiber of his being is worried Dean’s gonna say no and slap his hand away. Yell at him to get back in the car.

The headlights are still on, and Bob Seger has started to sing, voice painting the space between and around them with imagery of lives they’ve lived apart but certainly never together. Dean gives Sam a confused look, brows furrowed, but then he accepts Sam’s hand and allows himself to be led out of his car and into the beam of the headlights.

“Sam, what are we… what are you… what is this?” Dean asks as Sam. At first Sam doesn’t answer, instead he pulls his brother close, stomach happily flipping when Dean doesn’t pull away from their closeness.

“This is…” Sam begins, unsure what he’s going to say.

“Workin' on our night moves. Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues. Workin' on our night moves. And it was summertime. Sweet summertime summertime,” croons Seger’s voice over the stereo, carrying clearly into the night air. Gently, his hold as unthreatening as he can make it, Sam leads Dean around in a slow half-waltz.

“This is…” Sam tries again. What Sam’s hoping for here is nothing like the fling described in Seger’s song. Though he does feel like he’s all elbows and knees, a gangly teenager again, as he leans in to what little space is left between him and Dean to press their lips together. The kiss is light, but then Dean presses back and deepens it, tongue swiping over Sam’s the second he opens his mouth, making his nerves light up and his skin tingle all over.

Breaking the kiss and trying to catch his breath, Sam looks into Dean’s deep green eyes and smiles. “It’s that,” Sam says breathlessly.

“Thought it might be… and the music?”

Sam licks his lips and doesn’t miss the way Dean tracks the movement. “The senior prom neither of us ever had?”

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Dean brings a hand up to cradle the back of Sam’s neck. “Without the werewolves.”

Sam nods. “Without the werewo—” Sam doesn’t get to finish as Dean hauls him into a kiss and gently moves his lips against Sam’s, teasing and a touch hesitant this time. Responding to his brother, Sam doesn’t leave Dean any room to doubt that he does want this as he eases Dean’s mouth open and swipes their tongues together.

Pulling away, Sam nuzzles up to and presses his lips against Dean’s neck, tongue flicking out as he kisses him again and again, inhaling his ever present scent of sandalwood and leather, gun oil and whiskey. His brother continues to hold him close, one hand steady on the back of his head and the other stroking his back as if to reassure both of them. With a pang of want, Sam wishes that Dean’s hand would dip lower.

“This is… so messed up,” Dean whispers into the side of Sam’s head, face half-buried in his hair. Sam can feel Dean breathing him in as the tape moves onto “The Fire Below”.

“Here comes old Rosie she's looking mighty fine. Here comes hot Nancy she's steppin' right on time…” sings Seger.

Pausing from kissing along Dean’s neck, Sam looks into Dean’s eyes and shakes his head. “I want this. Us.”

“But… how could you ever…”

“What, want you?” Sam sighs, that same question has been running around in his head for weeks, months… years. “Because you’re the only good thing in my life and you’re leaving. I’ll take what I can get, even though I want you for forever.”

Dean’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard and nods. “You… have me, Sam. I love you,” Dean declares, voice soft and wavering, vulnerability clear.

“I love you, too.” Sam kisses Dean with all the passion and love he feels, putting as much tenderness into the kiss as he possibly can. At first their mouths are closed, but then Dean teases the tip of his tongue along Sam’s lips and Sam opens himself to his brother. The music plays on around them, the Impala’s engine still rumbling on. Dean’s hand dips lower and he squeezes Sam’s ass, making Sam moan into his mouth as blood pools in his dick.

A chuckle works its way through Dean and he breaks the kiss, looking at Sam like he’s all that matters in the world—a level of devotion that Sam is at once used to and yet now also seems incredibly unfamiliar and precious.

“You know, Sammy, everyone gets laid on prom night,” jokes Dean, clearly trying to reel himself back in from being over-exposed. But it’s not just a joke if their now matching hardness is anything to go by.

Flashing Dean a wicked smile, Sam twists out of Dean’s hold and grabs him by the hand so he can pull him over to the Impala.

“I was joking, Sam,” Dean says, but he doesn’t pull away.

Sam takes a moment to lean in the driver’s seat, and cuts the engine and the lights. Satisfied, Sam drags Dean over to the back passenger door and ushers Dean inside pushing Dean down onto the leather seat.

Door still open, Sam climbs up on top of Dean and boxes him in. “You were saying?”

Before Dean has the chance to answer, Sam brings their lips together, dipping down and tasting Dean. He grinds their hips together, the push and tease along his hardness making him whimper into Dean’s mouth and Dean moan into his. Stopping for a moment, the two of them catch their breath. With no lights, all Sam can see of Dean is a vague outline of his brother, but Dean’s hands are stroking up and down his side, reassuring him. They’re both straining against their dress slacks.

“Dean,” pleads Sam, but he’s suddenly unsure what he wants.

Wordlessly, Dean pushes himself up on his arms and kisses Sam on the cheek. “Ssh, I got you.” Dean shifts the two of them around and soon Sam’s the one sprawled on the back seat and Dean is unzipping their slacks and pulling them down their hips.

Warm and firm, Dean covers Sam’s body with his own, leaning on his left arm as he kisses Sam softly. A part of Sam knew what was coming when he felt Dean’s right hand ghost down his body, but as his brother takes both of their hard leaking cocks in hand, swiping pre-cum over their shafts, Sam bucks in surprise, body on fire. Dean starts to stroke both of them, making Sam shake and groan—each caress of Dean’s hand letting Sam know he didn’t imagine all those looks they’d been sharing; that there had been fewer women in his bed because he’d wanted Sam.

Toes curling in his shoes, Sam deepens their kiss, tongue matching and then overtaking the pace of Dean’s hand until Dean catches up. They’re both breathing raggedly through their noses, and Sam’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest as Dean strokes the both of them closer and closer to orgasm. The car smells of sex, their musk mixing together and Sam arches into Dean’s hand, mouth plundering Dean’s and tasting him.

Backing away from their kisses, Sam can feel a familiar twist deep in his stomach—he can’t last any longer. “Gonna... come,” Sam pants out and then Dean squeezes just that bit harder on the drag up, thumb swiping over their slits a touch faster. And both of them are done, heads light, bodies shaking, seeking each other’s mouths out to kiss and cry as their orgasms rock through them, staining their dress shirts.

Daze lifting, Sam feels the cooling wetness of their come through his shirt and groans as Dean climbs back off of him. It’s awkward getting out of the car, slacks slipping down to his ankles, but the two of them wordlessly clean up and get changed in the increasingly cool night air with only the sound of the odd car or truck passing nearby.

Dean puts on an old band t-shirt with his jeans and boots, and Sam pulls on an old soft flannel shirt with his jeans and boots. The two of them climb into the front seat and Dean starts the engine. The internal light comes on and Dean gives Sam a look. Sam prays that what just happened won’t be the only time.

“That… wasn’t a one-off, right?” Sam asks, tone unsure.

Dean’s soft green eyes gaze across at Sam, but no words come. So Sam shuffles along the bench seat and leans against Dean, kissing him on the cheek and settling down for the ride to their next motel. He doesn’t expect Dean to say anything, but the way his brother’s hand curls over his shoulders after he puts the car in drive tells Sam that Dean wants this. Wants them.

Even though they’re running out of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos is appreciated and I will endeavor to respond to comments.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Find this fic on Tumblr [here](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/150917487785/last-chance).


End file.
